A Little Personality
by MGMK
Summary: And slowly but surely she grows each day...


**Disclaimer:**Don't own. Just borrowing.

**Author****'****s****Note:** Sorry. I'm sorry. Blame my absence on _Glee_ and its uncanny ability to put me in a writing funk. And also, when feedback is scarce, apparently my inspiration level drops – something that was pointed out to me by one of my regular readers. So, I'll try to be better at it but I make no promises. A special thanks to my beta for looking this over for me. Have a happy and safe holiday you guys and, as always, thanks for reading.

* * *

><p>Maya's personality kicks in approximately three months, two weeks, and four days after she was born.<p>

She's a wailer.

She wails when she's wet.

She wails when she's dry.

She wails when she's hungry, when she's full, when she has to burp, when she has to…not burp.

And she doesn't give them warning signs either.

One minute they're collapsing into bed after finally having gotten her to sleep, bodies rolling onto one another, not caring for sleeping space so long as they get to actually sleep and the next…

"Aye Dios mio," Santana groans, bolting upright in bed.

Brittany flips over and falls to the floor in alarm. "Ow."

Brittany's sitting up and rubbing the reddened spot on her elbow by the time Santana manages to switch the light on.

"You okay?" she asks, yawning loudly.

"I'm fine."

"Good. Then you can go and check on her."

"Whose turn is it?"

"I don't remember."

"Rock, paper, scissors?" Brittany suggests, already holding out her fist.

Brittany keeps her hand balled up as Santana flattens her fingers out.

Santana grins as Brittany pouts.

"Two out of four?" she asks hopefully.

***o*O*o***

"I don't get it," Brittany says a short while later, "How did we both lose?"

"Because you suck at percentages," Santana says, smiling to soften the statement. "And you know this works best as a tandem."

"That's because she likes your voice and my dancing," Brittany smiles, scooping Maya up as Santana makes herself comfortable in the rocking chair.

"What's the matter, little one?" she coos. "Did Mercedes say she was gonna sell you to Gerber again? Because I promise she can't legally do that."

Maya's little cheeks are flamed red and she lets loose a shuddering breath before picking up again.

"Man, she's pissed," Santana muses, watching Maya's little fists bat at the air.

"Just start singing," Brittany says, shifting the little baby so that she's propped upon her shoulder, her hands rubbing soothing patterns along Maya's back.

And, what, pray tell, do you think hushes up a Lopez-Pierce baby?

_Don't call it a comeback  
>I been here for years<br>Rockin' my peers and puttin' suckas in fear  
>Makin the tears rain down like a MON-soon<br>Listen to the bass go BOOM  
>Explosion, overpowerin'<br>Over the competition, I'm towerin'  
>Wreckin' shop, when I drop these lyrics that'll make you call the cops<br>Don't you dare stare, you betta move  
>Don't ever compare<br>Me to the rest that'll all get sliced and diced  
>Competition's paying the price<em>

_I'm gonna knock you out (HUUUH!)  
>Mama said knock you out (HUUUH!)<em>

_I'm gonna knock you out (HUUUH!)  
>Mama said knock you out (HUUUH!)<em>

The entire time Santana's "singing", Brittany bounces Maya on her shoulder, rocking and swaying her gently until the baby's cries fade into gentle murmurs.

"There you go, baby girl," Brittany whispers, letting out a slow breath when Maya's breathing pattern evens out.

Carefully – _very_ carefully – Brittany lowers Maya into her bassinette.

"C'mon," Santana says quietly, wrapping her hand around Brittany's and leading her out of the room.

This time they do turn down the bed, Santana tossing the throw pillows to the floor – they're gonna end up there anyway – and pulling back the comforter. She slides in first, counting the half a second it takes for Brittany to follow.

They snuggle up to one another, face to face, Brittany tugging Santana's arms to wrap around her waist, leaving her own pinned between them.

She trails her index finger down Santana's face, stopping on the tip of her nose. "I think you missed your calling," she says, grinning.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she nods. "I dunno. MC Tana has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Santana takes in a deep breath, holding back her laughter as her arms tighten around Brittany just slightly. "I could be down with that. But only if you're my DJ."

"Britt Pizzle, ready and willing baby," Brittany whispers exaggeratedly, her eyes sparkling.

Santana does laugh this time, leaning forward to peck Brittany gently on the lips once…twice.

"One day," she says quietly as she pulls back, letting her eyes drift closed.

"One day," Brittany echoes, following her girl to dreamland.

***o*O*o***

"Is she going to be, you know, coming home soon?"

Sam adjusts his glasses, clicks his pen on and off, opens and closes the latch on his briefcase.

He's still every bit the fresh-faced guy she remembers going to high school with only now his hair is slicked professionally to the back instead of hanging in his eyes and he's traded in the jeans and hoodies for a tailored suit.

He's a grown-up now.

They all are really.

Sometimes even she can't believe it.

But, then again, sometimes it hits her just how 'the same' they all are.

Santana nods. "In about ten more minutes or so."

She glances down where Maya is nursing, and only then does Sam's discomfort really make sense.

"What's the matter, Trouty Mouth? It's nothing you haven't seen before."

"I've never seen you naked before," Sam squeaks, scandalized.

"Really? I thought for sure I had…" Santana trails off, pretending to think about. "Well, you wanna see 'em now?"

Sam's eyes widen when Santana seemingly moves Maya and then he clamps them shut. "Santana!"

"Oh, calm down. She's eating. It's natural," she says, rolling her eyes even though she finds his reactions rather amusing. "And really, you can't even see anything so relax."

Sam blinks his eyes open, feeling embarrassed. "I'm sorry. It's just…you know, weird, for me. I'm not really good with babies."

"Are you kidding me?" Santana says, eyebrows furrowed. "You were great with your little brother and sister."

Sam smiles. "I'm good with kids. Not babies."

"Well, if I were you I'd learn to be good. Mercedes keeps trying to steal my kid so I keep telling her to get one of her own. Don't be surprised if it comes up over dinner or when you're trying to, I don't know, suck her face off with those enormous soup-coolers of yours."

The color drains away from Sam's face just as Brittany's breezing through the front door.

"Hello darling," she states grandly, dropping off her shoulder bag and hurrying over to the couch to kiss Santana, then Maya, then…

"Sam?"

"Hi," he manages weakly, mind still elsewhere.

Brittany cocks her head at him before looking back to Santana, eyes questioning. Santana turns Maya around on her lap, the baby already past full before she hastily covers back up. "He brought the adoption paperwork over."

"Right," Sam finally speaks up, snapping open his briefcase. "The last form. We just need Brittany's signature and that'll be that."

"I'll be her mom?" Brittany asks airily. "I mean, I _know_ I'm her mom but now I will be, like, legally?"

"Yeah, Britt," Sam smiles, handing the legal forms over.

"Gimme a pen," Brittany says, enthusiastically snatching the papers away.

She gestures for Sam to turn around so she can use his back and her hand's shaking like crazy as she signs her name but she does it, notarizing the form that states that Maya belongs to the both of them now.

She goes over to her, kneeling down so that she's at Maya's eye level and the little girl looks at her strangely, surprised that her Mama B just materialized like that.

Brittany takes her hands out of her mouth, ignoring the drool like only a mother would. "Gimme a kiss, punkin," she says sweetly, smiling at Maya.

And Maya…Maya blinks, then smiles, gurgling.

"Aww," Brittany swoons, pressing a kiss right against the baby's smile.

***o*O*o***

Santana puts her fork down and hesitates for a moment before finally speaking.

"Britt?"

Brittany looks away from where she was staring at Maya where she's strapped to her bouncer sitting on the kitchen floor.

"Hmm?"

"I want to talk to you about something. Something important," Santana hedges, waiting for Brittany's reaction to see how she should proceed.

"Is this about the mailbox-sized dent in the car? Because I swear I don't know how it got there."

"What?" Santana smiles slowly. "No, Britt. It's not about…you hit a mailbox?"

Brittany grins sheepishly, shoving a forkful of vegetables into her mouth. "No idea what you're talking about babe."

"Mmmhmm," Santana hums, raising an eyebrow as she smirks. It fades though as she once again turns serious. "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that Reggie called me."

"Your producer?" Brittany asks with a frown.

Santana nods. "He told me he's been working on some great material for me. Then he sort of hinted that he may have a couple of songs penned for me and that, when I'm ready, I could just give him a call. Come down to the studio."

"That's…great," Brittany says hesitantly, not quite putting two and two together. "Right? I mean, when you're ready you'll have a lot of stuff all ready to go."

"Britt," Santana says with a soft smile, placing a hand over her wife's. "I _am_ ready. I have to be honest. I'm going a little crazy at home with Maya all the time. It's nice and I _love_ spending time with her, but, I'm an adult. I need grown up time too. And my singing career? You know how the business can be. I have to put myself out there again or everything and everyone will have moved on."

"I understand that," Brittany says, turning her hand over so they can weave their fingers together. "But, San, what about Maya? You want to get a nanny? You know I don't trust those people after watching the _L__word_."

"Actually, I was thinking. I don't want some random person watching Maya either and you know how we've always wanted to turn the basement into a dance/music studio. Well…"

Brittany's eyes light up. "That would be awesome," she gushes. "And then I won't be so scared to go down there by myself."

"Are you sure, Britt-Britt? I'll only do this if you're behind me one-hundred percent."

"I'm always behind you one-hundred percent. I'm taller than you."

"Britt," Santana lightly chastises, shaking her head slightly.

"Of course I'm sure," Brittany says, tugging on Santana's hand and leaning in closer. She uses her free hand to rein Santana in until their noses are pressed together. "I'm always sure about us."

***o*O*o***

It's early.

At least, it's early according to the alarm clock sitting on their nightstand, so, imagine her shock when Santana rolls over, expecting to turn into a warm, deeply-breathing body, and only feels the soft satin of lukewarm bed sheets.

"Britt?" she whispers out into the darkness, eyes popping open immediately. "Brittany?" she tries again, sitting up when she hears no reply.

Alarmed now because Brittany hardly ever abandons their bedroom – and worried that maybe their little talk from before is weighing more heavily on her wife's mind than she first let on – she swings her lower half out of the bed, bare-feet sinking down into the super plush carpet.

Hurrying to their bedroom door, she peeks down the hall to the nursery.

The light's not on.

She turns her head in the other direction, toward the living room, and there, just barely, does she see the subtle illumination.

It's still quiet.

So, Santana keeps her tread light so as to not break the silence as she edges ever closer toward the source of the light and once she reaches the room, her heart melts.

There, lying on the couch is her wife and daughter.

They're both awake – Brittany lying against the arm of the chair with Maya sitting up on her stomach.

Not wanting to disturb the scene, Santana just stands there, leaning against the archway to quietly observe.

"Can I tell you something?" Brittany says quietly, holding onto Maya's hands as the baby works to maintain her balance.

Maya stares at her, her bright eyes wide as she listens.

"You're seriously the cutest baby I've ever seen. And I'm not saying that just because you're mine or anything. But, like, I've seen cute babies. Like, Beth, she was pretty cute…eventually. When she first came out it was kinda touch and go for a minute. And then, like, my sister was cute, too. But seriously, pumpkin. They can't hold a candle to you. And, I don't even know what that means but I'm pretty sure it fits here."

Maya gurgles, wiggling her hands until Brittany turns one loose so that she can chew on it.

"I'm so serious," Brittany continues, her voice sounding awestruck. "You've got the cutest eyes and tiny baby curls. And the cutest little chubby arms and legs. And I lurve your tummy," she adds, dancing the fingers of her free hand along Maya's tummy, smiling when the little girl attempts to laugh. It's almost as if she's confused by the sensations though, so she hitches and stares, clapping her wet fist against Brittany's other hand. "And you've got the cutest little laugh," Brittany goes on. "And tiny nose. And, cute, tiny, baby toes."

At this, Brittany sits up a little more, grabbing Maya's leg and kisses the bottom of her foot, finishing off with a cute "Mwah".

And that…that does it.

Maya's a goner.

She laughs, like really and truly. Not just a smile or a tiny giggle but a full-on, belly-jiggling, squealing baby laugh.

It's her first one.

"Oh my God," Brittany gasps, sitting up quickly. "Did you just laugh?"

Maya's smile drops, confused by Brittany's sudden change in demeanor.

"Oh no, baby. Don't be sad," Brittany says, placing her on her knees again. "Do it again. Laugh for Mama. Go on." She places her lips against Maya's foot and blows, the crude sound echoing into the night.

Maya cracks up again.

"San!" Brittany cries, sitting up straighter and placing Maya face-up on the sofa cushion. "San, c'mere, quick!"

Brittany finally looks to the doorway and sees Santana standing there, a warm smile on her lips. "San, c'mere. You gotta see this."

"I know, Britt," Santana says, closing the gap between them. "I've been watching for a while."

Brittany blows another raspberry against Maya's foot and the baby can hardly contain herself.

They both laugh at her exuberance, proud parents all over again.

"San," Brittany says, smiling when Santana lays her head on her shoulder.

"Yeah, Britt?"

"How did we end up with the cutest baby ever?"

"It's 'cause we're the cutest couple ever, babe."

Truer words were never spoken.

***o*O*o***

So Maya laughs.

A lot.

It's like her new thing.

She still wails, but, like, that's only an afterthought these days.

Most times, she just settles for baby-giggling her baby-butt off.

And she laughs at the craziest stuff.

Like, stuff that's not even funny or so completely mundane.

Brittany likes to say that it's Maya's way of bringing even more joy to their everyday lives.

Santana likes to say that it's Maya's way of turning into Brittany.

Puck likes to say that Maya's off her rocker.

It's really easy to get her to laugh too.

For example, hitting the power button on the blender makes her laugh.

Or, letting the garage door down makes her laugh.

Or, loading the dishwasher?

No idea why but Maya goes cray-cray for that one.

But, apparently, there's one thing that doesn't make Maya laugh…

…Professional baby photographers at their local Target.

"Come on little one," the man says gently, squeaking a rubber ball in front of her, "Just a little smile?"

Maya yawns.

Santana feels like giving herself a gigantic pat on the back because she's somehow not managed to laugh throughout the ordeal – but, she's more or less keeping her composure because Brittany looks to be on the verge of tears.

It's just, the way Maya's acting is so…_her_. She honestly believes that if she were a baby, she wouldn't find the photo guy funny, either.

Christmas is just around the corner and Brittany had a light bulb go off while they were bathing together to send Christmas cards with Maya on the front. You know, now that's she's smiling and stuff.

Actually, there were gonna be a set done with Maya solo and then one with them as a family, but Maya – her darling, adorable little daughter – was.

Not.

Having.

It.

"_Maya_," Brittany nearly whines, getting eye-level with their little girl. "Just pretend the camera isn't there. And we're at home just goofing around with the electric can opener."

Maya just looks at her.

"Britt, baby," Santana says, taking her wife by the shoulders. "If she doesn't smile it's not gonna be the end of the world. We can just take gorgeous none-smiley pictures."

"But…" Brittany whimpers, chin quivering. "I wanted everyone to see how happy we are. You think she's broken?"

Santana gives her a cute look at that and is about to speak when the photographer suddenly snaps his fingers. "I've got it," he semi-exclaims before darting off into the studio hurriedly.

"Maybe he's got a blender," Brittany whispers, waiting patiently.

Maya boredly starts tugging on her little red velvet Christmas dress.

"Aha," the photographer says, brandishing a white, floppy toy bunny. "In all my years of taking pictures, _this_has never failed me."

He moves in front of Maya, carefully staying out of frame. "Hey Maya. I'm Mr. Hippity Hop. Can you smile for me, pretty girl?"

Maya makes a move to reach for the toy but, of course, since she's buckled to the little background display, she gets nowhere.

The man moves the bunny around some more and Maya's starting to get a little frustrated but then-

"ACHOO!"

Brittany's sneeze is so unexpected and so _loud_ that Santana and the photographer jump.

"Oh jeez," Brittany sniffs, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry I guess it's the dust from the bu-bu-bunn-"

"AACHOOO!"

That's when they hear it.

Maya's laughing like a mad tiny person.

"Oh my God," Santana gasps. "She's laughing. Quick, take the picture. Britt, don't stop sneezing."

"Not-not a probl…ACHOO!"

It takes another half-hour, but by the end of it, they have a beautiful photoset of Maya and their family, newly toned muscles from all the faux-sneezing, and a new weapon added to the arsenal of a professional photographer they're definitely going to be using in the future.

* * *

><p><strong>Author<strong>**'****s****Note#2:** Song used is (in case you didn't know) LL Cool J's "Mama Said Knock You Out"


End file.
